Building Sandcastles- A Short Allegory

A long-term perspective on using your gifts and passions

A little boy sat in the sand, breathing in the salty air of the beach. His hair matched the color of the sand and if one wasn’t watching where they were going, they could easily have tripped over him.

The boy sat with his father, a graying old man who owned the beach.

Most visitors were unaware realize the land was private property. Those who knew didn’t know why he allowed them to come to his beach, but he always welcomed them.

The boy and his father watched day after day as across the crowded beach, people were hard at work making sandcastles.

Thousands of people came to this beach everyday to build their own sandcastle. Some were bigger and more intricate, while others crumbled if anything within ten feet of it moved. But despite the countless sandcastles that riddled the beach, they were all unique.

But twice a day, the tides would come and wash away all work done. A great wall of foaming seawater that snuffed out all trace of labour.

And the father and son watched.

One lady with bright blue eyes and a wide-brimmed hat crossed the beach. She carried two shovels and a bag full of plastic molds in her hands. She knelt down and dug in the sand, spending hours to create the perfect castle. The castle had towering spires reaching toward the sky. Every inch of her creation was covered with tiny shells that glittered in the sun like stars.

Another woman shaped the sand around her into a small hill with her hands, then laid a single shell at the summit.

But twice a day, the tides would come and wash away all the work done. And the father and son watched.

One group of friends built a tall tower that reached into the sky. They packed the sand in tight to make it as sturdy as possible. They proudly named it the empire sand building.

While a little girl built a small village for hermit crabs to live in. The crabs responded by pinching her on the finger causing her to run away crying.

The majestic grandeur of certain castles attracted visitors from far and wide.

Though others were rudimentary and plain, none of them attracted any attention.

Nevertheless twice a day, the tides would come and wash away all the work done. And the father and son watched.

Some people spent hours carefully crafting their glorious masterpieces.

While for others it looked like a bulldozer had built it.

One guy built a large moat around his castle and proudly proclaimed that his work would forever be memorialized.

While a girl, in a fit of frustration, tried to hold back the water herself to protect her creation from the onslaught of the waves.

But twice a day, the tides would come and wash away all the work done. And the father and son watched.

“Why do they all care so much about it? Don’t they know the tide is coming?” the little boy asked.

“People are short term minded, most are so focused on their work, they can’t comprehend that something could come and destroy it. But the problem you’re seeing is this son,” he gestured his hand towards the throng of people and their sandcastles, “people forget that there are more important things. They place their entire identity in something that’s temporary, they crave the smiles and praise from passerby’s. But no matter how much time they spend or hard they try, the inevitable waves come.”

One woman, once noticing that one of her towers was leaning slightly to the left, gave out a guttural scream and kicked the entire thing over. “I knew I couldn’t do it.” She stormed away, leaving a pile of sand in her wake.

While another man stepped back to admire his perfect castle, grabbing other people to come see it.

Water lapped at the boy and his father’s toes.

“It looks like it’s coming in now,” the father said.

A huge wave approached, coming towards the unsuspecting creations. The water soaked into the sand below, slowing down the momentum of the wave. But the wave was too powerful as it came onto land, washing away countless sandcastles.

A guy rapidly tried to rebuild what was left of his work to keep the erosion away. But the watery sand crumbled in his hands.

“But why do all these people build sandcastles in the first place? What’s the point if they just get washed away?” the little boy asked, looking up at his father.

“Because it’s fun,” his father said. “People are only on this beach for a short time. But while they’re here, they get to use their talents and imagination to create.” He leaned back in the sand and smiled.

And the tides came and washed away all the work done. And the father and son watched.